Page 32 of Race to Save Her

The detectives were quiet on the ride to the Rockview Jail. Each lost in their questions and thoughts about the case.

Katie kept running through what Ames had said at the bar the night before. He’d seemed casual, but there was something underneath it. Men who were cocky usually covered for insecurities, and even fear.

Now they had a name—Shelby Roberts—and a face, it made the case seem more exigent. If Shelby had been missing for a few months and had been reported missing by her boss at the yoga studio, but her body decomposition was recent, that meant she’d been held against her will. Katie leaned toward kidnapping. But why?

“Hey, partner,” said McGaven. “Looks like something’s weighing heavy on your mind.”

Katie smiled. “Is this a weird case?”

“Define weird.”

“Unusual, strange, macabre…”

“You got a point,” he said.

She sighed. “I have a feeling something much bigger is about to drop.”

McGaven nodded. “I know.”

“What have you gleaned from Brandon Bates’s notes?”

“Typical three-time loser. Been in and out of jail for most of his adult life. Mostly small stuff like burglary and trespass—then moving up to more serious crimes like running guns and robbery.”

“Okay. But how did the body parts get inside his home?”

“The million-dollar question. In his interviews, he claimed he didn’t know how they got under the house or the sink.”

Katie frowned. “How could he not smell anything? Although the arm under the sink could have been put there after Brandon was taken into custody.”

They neared the jail and proceeded to drive into the visitor area.

“This should be interesting,” she said.

The detectives waited until they were escorted to a meeting room usually reserved for attorneys and families. Katie ran through her mind how she was going to question Bates. She was going to lead the interview and planned on being direct to try to push him off his game. Sometimes things changed when they met face-to-face, but she was ready.

The correctional officer unlocked the steel door that had been painted a horrible orange in another decade. Katie entered, followed by McGaven. The detectives had a routine that worked well in an interview or interrogation scenario. Katie would ask questions while McGaven moved around the room. If you didn’t know McGaven personally, he appeared generally intimidating with his height and serious expression.

Brandon Bates sat at the severely scarred table, his wrists secured with handcuffs that were attached to the heavy tabletop. He sat up straight, staring aimlessly with his clear blue eyes, as if he was ignoring the detectives’ presence. His brown hair had been recently shaved. Both arms were tattooed with colorful depictions of women, guns, and knives. His hands didn’t move. He remained statue-still, as if it would make the detectives go away.

The guard shut the door.

“Mr. Bates, I’m Detective Scott and this is my partner, Detective McGaven. We’re from the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department,” she said.

Bates never moved, looked at them, or said a word.

Katie smiled. McGaven took his position in the corner and lurked.

“Mr. Bates, do you understand why we’re here?” she said.

Slowly he turned his attention to Katie. His eyes were distant and it was difficult to tell if he was looking at you or through you. “Yeah… You have some questions…” His voice was low with a definite sneer.

“We’re interested in the human body parts found in the floor of your home.”

“So?”

“Can you tell us who might have put them in your house?”

Bates slammed his fists on the table, making a loud crash. “Look, I don’t talk to bitches. Understand?”